Mission Impossible
by 808tenshi
Summary: AU. S/N. Agent Kuga Natsuki gets the chance to prove herself as a true operative. But, will it be more then she can handle? Title subject to change. Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- If I owned Sunrise… I'd stop milking the damned series; seriously, they're making me hate anything that has "Mai-" in front of its name. Unfortunately, I don't. Mai-HiME is the property of its respective owners.

Unbeta-ed- 'cause I don't want to harass anyone and since only God knows if I'll keep up with this. Please, don't see this, Rae. *Sweatdrops* Corrections welcome.

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Chapter 1

Snow fell steadily, further blanketing the already frozen roadways. The leaf-bare trees that lined the sidewalk might have been pretty when everything was lush and green but in the dead of winter just added to the dreary "I should be in bed, dammit!" sentiment.

As for the few people who were insane enough to drive in a snowstorm that reports had heralded as "The Storm of the Century"—of which there had been two this year—drove slowly in an almost pathetic effort to keep control on the slick road.

Hokkaido, Japan may be a popular tourist destination in the spring when the sakura were in bloom, in the summer when festivalgoers came from around the world to check out the local attractions, or maybe even in winter if you were going lounge in an Onsen. But walking down the streets today was basically suicide.

"Shit," muttered the lone figure that walked along the frosted sidewalk. Puffing out a white cloud of smoke, she pulled the collar of her jacket further up against her neck in a doomed attempt to keep the cold at bay. Dressed in jeans, a black coat and a pair of sunglasses the woman pulled her ski cap down to cover the tips of her reddening ears. Quickening her pace she, heading to a nearby office building.

Her choice expression largely echoed her sentiments that no sane person would be out and about unless they had to. But, at the very least, she was practically in the clear. Trotting up the de-iced steps a gloved hand snaked out from the deep pocket that had been keeping it warm and gave the door handle a bad-tempered yank.

Taking a deep breath of the artificially heated air, the slim woman pulled off her cap letting down her long, black hair. Using her teeth, she bit on the fingertips of her gloves and pulled them off, shoving them into her pockets where she could be relatively certain she would not lose them. She casually glanced around and gave the sleep old guard at the desk and acknowledging nod before she continued to the elevator. Her short-heeled boots thumped dully on the floor as she dusted the remaining snow off of her now-soaked jeans. Normally she would have worn tennis shoes—they were much more comfortable to run in—but in the event when they would be sopping masses of Made in China fabric in less then a minute, boots were permissible. The woman sighed irritably at that fact that due to the insanely large amounts of frozen water particles that had been flying at her, it looked as though she'd rolled through a puddle. Hell… at least her shirt was still okay, protected by her jacket. A day of catcalls would result in some moronic, testosterone-laden buck being sent to the hospital; she grinned at the thought—she should know—and yet, most of the time men were too stupid to learn. The memory put her in a slightly better mood as she strolled to her office.

High overhead lights illuminated the lobby of the eighteen-floor building and gently highlighted her fair skin. Potted plants stood tastefully at corners or next to chairs in the waiting areas. Thoughtfully picked and hung paintings decorated the walls and gave brilliant splashes of color to the multi-use office building, exuding a modern feel. The gleaming wood chairs and desks shipped from abroad scented the air with light odor of polish. The building itself had been around since the World War II era, but had been remodeled and now serviced many of the young up-and-coming white-collar workers of various firms and institutions who had migrated to the area.

Stepping up the to chrome elevator door, she casually hit the down button, tapping her heel while she waited. In no longer then ten seconds a familiar 'ding' served to inform her that her ride had arrived. With an almost inaudible whoosh the doors slid open and she stepped inside, deftly hitting the 'Close Door' button. Turing to the lit floor-choice buttons she hit a sequence of numbers: eight, two, three, five, seven, nine, before she stepped up to the elevator's camera. As the elevator began a slow decent the woman stared ahead while a red laser scanned her face, moving slow down then back up, finally focusing on the retina of her grass-green eyes before blinking out.

"Special Intelligence Forces, Agent Kuga Natsuki."

A feminine voice with a slightly mechanical tinge intoned from the speakers acknowledging the rider.

Natsuki grinned impishly. "That's right. Good morning, Rita."

"Agent Kuga," the preprogrammed voice continued on after a slight pause, "please report to Chief Nakajima's office upon your arrival. Have a nice day."

"Oh yeah…" Natsuki's grin was quickly replaced with a frowned as she dragged her fingers through her hair in a show of frustration, "today's gonna be fucking great. I can tell already."

As the elevator jerked to a halt, Natsuki stepped out in to her "office."

Unlike the lights of the building above the ones in the base were mostly blue, designed to give off an ultraviolet light that killed most common bacteria, creating a largely sterile environment. The underground Special Intelligence Forces office served a multitude of uses and came complete with a maze of desks—each with it's very own slave, a Research and Development section, a Bio-lab, shooting range and cafeteria; among many other things. In a large contrast to the sleepy old guard above, the front desk of the Japan based division of the International Special Intelligence Forces, was manned by not only young, well-trained, but also technologically savvy agents who were at the top of their game.

Tokiha Mai and Minagi Mikoto looked up from their conversation and smiled at her as she came in. Both women knew their way around electronics and were always reliable in a tough situation. Mai had once done fieldwork but had chosen to take a lighter approach to the job when her partner, one Tate Yuuichi, had been killed in a raid—not to say that she had lost the touch for street work. Mikoto on the other hand was relatively new to the agency. A bit younger then Natsuki and Mai, Mikoto's slim build hid her abundant muscles. Both women were twenty-four year old Natsuki's seniors in the agency. On amiable terms with most everyone in the office, they had gotten close to her despite her efforts to keep them away and now were her closest friends in the agency.

"Hey, Natsuki!" The woman with orange hair and a contagious grin raised a hand casually as she stepped forward. A tailored black suit—the dress code for non-field operatives—covered a very well endowed body that distracted most people from noticing that she was more then just a pretty face.

"Mai. Mikoto." Natsuki smiled. "So, any info as to why the boss has decided to summon me to the Holy Land?"

Mai chuckled as she brushed her bangs away from her violet eyes. "Absolutely no clue. But you must have done something to get his attention, or maybe he just wants to declare his undying love for you."

"Yeah," Natsuki snorted, "that must be it. But, if he asks me to have his kids, one of us is going to have to die."

Mikoto grinned as well. "Natsuki, I've been meaning to ask you, why do you keep calling the elevator A.I. Rita?"

"Oh," Natsuki barked out a laugh as she settled her hip on the corner of the desk, "just something I thought of. R.I.T.A's my homemade acronym for 'R-eally I-diotic T-alking A-utomation'."

"Nice." Mai smiled as she leaned forward, closer to where Natsuki was sitting. "So, thought about taking Takeda-kun up on his offer?"

She winked slyly.

"Are you insane? That loser? He's a total wimp, not to mention his marksmanship sucks." Natsuki frowned.

"Aww," Mai moaned playfully. "But he really seems to like you. And, it's not like anyone here can beat you on a firing range."

Natsuki grinned. "And don't you forget it."

"Ah," Mikoto grinned perversely, "so, Natsuki is after someone with a stronger 'trigger finger', huh?"

Blushing, Natsuki's jaw dropped.

"Mikoto!"

Natsuki made a grab at the younger girl, but ended up with nothing but a handful of air as the short haired girl danced nimbly away. As she was about to attempt a second grab, the sound of someone clearing his throat behind her paused her hand. Mai and Mikoto got to their feet and bowed to the person over her shoulder.

"_Ah, shit…"_ Natsuki grimaced as she slowly slid off the desk and turned.

Straightening herself, Natsuki bowed stiffly to the stern faced man behind her.

Dressed in a black suit, red tie, and polished shoes, Chief Nakajima Koichi stood at an impressive six foot five, staring at her. An ex-marine, the chief maintained his military style haircut, but had dropped most of the harsher command methods. Divorced and never remarried, he'd been heading up the division for fifteen years. Ever stalwart, he was completely dedicated to the organization and it's agents.

"Good morning, Sir," the three intoned together.

"Good morning." Nakajima stared down Natsuki after a nod of his head. "If I wasn't mistaken, Kuga, you were ordered to report to my office upon arrival."

Her posture growing defiant, Natsuki matched the chief's formal tone. "Well, sir, I was certainly planning to, but as it appears had I gone there directly I would have missed you. As the situation stands, it was much more efficient that I waited here and coincidentally met you, thus optimizing our time together."

Letting out a sigh, the older man rubbed his chin in a habitual gesture.

"Was that supposed to be some kind of joke, Kuga?"

"No, sir. Never, sir." A straight face and a short, military brand response.

"Well," Nakajima arched an eyebrow. "Since you're so eager to spend time together, why don't we head to my office?"

Natsuki bit on her lip to stifle a laugh as the two women behind her tried to disguise their chuckles as coughs. Bringing herself under control, she nodded, resuming her military style responses.

"Yes, sir."

The Chief's office was in the middle of the first floor, against the back wall and facing the door. Outside in a small area separating the office from the main room, his secretary Sugiura Midori sat, dutifully typing on her desk unit with a bored expression. In her mid-thirties, Sugiura had worked for the agency for nearly ten years years. When Natsuki had asked about her occupation before hand, she'd smiled and changed the subject to Natsuki's love life. Personally, Natsuki suspected she'd been some kind spy, what with her uncanny knowledge to know everything about everyone in the office. Her red hair and bright green eyes made her look much younger then she really was; a fact that she prided herself in. With a slight smile and nod in response to Midori's enthusiastic wave, Natsuki entered the chief's office two steps behind him.

The office was roughly three times the size of the other agent's offices and looked like something you'd see a high-class attorney working in. Bookshelves and file cabinets lined the walls while a video display window played a recorded scene of a nearby park. The centerpiece of the room, a large, well-polished oak desk held neatly arranged files and folders as well as a personal, state of the art PC.

Taking his seat behind the desk, Nakajima gestured to the chair facing his. After Natsuki had taken her seat, he folded her hands and stared contemplatively at her. Not one to be intimidated, Natsuki sat, ramrod straight and stared back. After a minute or two of the game, Nakajima let out a bark of laughter which nearly caused Natsuki to jump from her seat.

"Still the same as ever aren't you?" He smiled.

Natsuki frowned and answered stiffly, "Yes, I would assume so, sir."

"No, I take that back, you're different from when you first came here. You wouldn't have talked with Tokiha and Minagi like that then."

No response.

"Yes, you've changed; I'm glad." Nakajima continued in the same, almost inaudible tone.

"Sir. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to know why I was called?" Natsuki pointedly ignored the previous statements. It didn't seem like they'd been directed to her anyhow. And even if they were, what the hell did it matter to him?

The chief ran his hand through his hair.

"Ever to the point, but very well. You've been here for four years now haven't you? You joined when you were twenty?"

Natsuki frowned.

"_He damn well knows that I did."_

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I called you here because I'd like to give you an assignment."

Unconsciously, Natsuki let out a breath. It definitely wasn't what she'd been expecting.

"Aren't those usually given to senior agents?"

"Yes," Nakajima said. "But, we needed an agent to fit a certain profile on this one. In the past, I wouldn't have given you something like this even if you fit. I didn't think that you could handle it mentally with your state of mind and self-destructive behavior you had then or, that you'd be reliable with a team."

Natsuki opened her mouth in objection, but was silenced when Nakajima held up a hand.

"As I said, that was 'then', and people do change. We need someone like you for this. Do you want it?" He gazed levelly at her, the lines on his forehead creased, his onyx-black eyes flat.

"Yes, sir." Natsuki clenched her fist.

Nakajima's eyes lost a bit of their toughness, but the lines remained.

"Good. Report to Conference Room C in half an hour. Dismissed."

With a bow, Natsuki stood and headed out the door.

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A/N- Well, well, it's been awhile since I've been in this fandom and this work here, is just something I've been writing in my spare time. Some OCs will be playing minor roles since none of the HiME cast fit the characteristics I'd like them to have. This was more of an introductory chapter then anything, sorry if it was a bore.

What else? Hm… My other stuff? Heeeh. Maybe eventually, I really have to be in a mood to do those…

As always, drop a review, flame or whatever. If not, thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**- How's that saying go? Something about if wishes were fishes… Meh. HiME/Otome series' are property of their respective owners.

**Unbeta-ed**- Yup. Mistakes are mine and mine alone. (God knows there are a lot)

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**Chapter 2- **

Exiting the chief's office, Natsuki hurriedly walked pass Midori before the older woman could chat her up and headed to her sanctuary. The tiny corner spot was one of the jewels of the organization. Having won one of the few 'private' offices in a lottery after its previous occupant had retired, having her own door was a definite plus to someone like Natsuki who preferred solitude if possible.

It had been nice when she's gotten it. Clean, painted, organized… hell, it'd even come with a little plant that the other agent had left behind. In the year following her acquisition, the décor had slowly changed. Files stacked up, the walls lost their luster, and she was pretty sure that the little potted plant had somehow committed suicide; found a way to feed itself poison or something by the looks of it. It didn't matter much to her; in fact, it suited her fine. "Order in disorder" was her unofficial creed.

Slamming the door shut behind her, Natsuki tossed her coat over the chair and slummed in it, covering her eyes with her arm. The chair groaned slightly under her weight, as she leaned back.

"_What the hell does he know about me? What the fuck does he care?"_

Furious at what the chief had just said, it surprised Natsuki that she was fighting back the urge to cry. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes and she wiped viciously at them. She wouldn't cry. Not ever again. That was something she'd promised herself when she'd been abandoned.

At the age of ten, she'd been taken to an orphanage after her parent's death. During that time, she'd done nothing but cry. The police had come and questioned her, but she wouldn't talk to them, there was nothing to say, she didn't know anything.

'_What happened? Did you see who did it? Don't you want us to catch the people who hurt your parents?'_

Those uniformed men; the ones who pretended to care. They had smiled at her—a mere façade to try and get information from her. They said they were friends. One had even brought her a doll, but that didn't matter. She'd never played with those. But they weren't friends, friends didn't leave, real friends came back. After she had shaken her head, 'no, she didn't know,' they didn't come back.

In the orphanage, she'd always sit alone, some of the other children tried to talk to her, but they too left when she didn't respond. One day, she'd been sitting off to the side watching while the children went about their games on the playground. One of the larger boys, notorious for being a bully, had taken a doll away from one of the little girls and was holding it above his head, laughing and pulling at the doll's arms while the girl cried. Tears streaked the little girl's face as she begged for the toy back while the boy's friends joined in and taunted her.

Covering her ears, she'd tried to block out the sounds. Sounds that were too familiar, a reminder of another moment when she'd been unable to do anything. It wasn't something she'd wanted to remember.

Why? Why did people have to hurt other people? The strong picked on the weak that were unable to defend themselves, just for what? Cash? Kicks?

People like her parents just ended up last.

They'd been at home when the men came; she'd been asleep when her mother had rushed into her room telling her to get under the bed and that, no matter what, she shouldn't come out until she was called. After that, her mother had left the room. For a little while, there was silence, than there was a shout, the crashing of glass and then a loud bang. The noise had almost sounded like a firework, but unlike the fireworks, the noise scared her. She didn't know exactly how long she'd lain under her bed with her eyes closed, but eventually, the men in uniforms had come, coaxed her out, and taken her here. She didn't get to see her parents again.

Emerald eyes had slowly widened, as she'd watched the boy laughed and kick dirt at the other girl. Slowly, she uncovered her ears, and her hands clenching at her sides.

Something snapped and after that, she'd moved blindly. One moment, she'd been sitting there watching and the next, she was over there.

Her fist smashed into the boy's face and blood spouted from his nose. In shock, he'd fallen to the ground, and she'd been on him, hitting. It had taken two of the teachers to pull her off. After that, she'd spent a week locked in her room, not allowed out, not allowed to talk to anyone. But, during that time, she'd resolved never to cry again.

When she'd been let out, all the other children avoided her; even the girl that she'd helped wouldn't meet her eye. It didn't matter; she didn't need anyone. Everyone would leave her eventually, just like her parents. Her parents had been the weak ones. That was why they'd been hurt. That wouldn't happen to her. She'd be the strong one and protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

Immediately after graduating from high school, she'd joined the police force. With the singled minded goal of becoming stronger, she had put her all into her training program. When the other cadets went out for drinks, she stayed in the library studying. Every morning and evening was spent in the gym or at the shooting range. And, upon the completion of the program, the Chief of the Special Forces had approached her. With the highest scores of her class and many broken academy records to show for her time, she'd been selected to train as an agent. Taking his proffered hand, she hadn't looked back.

During her first year as an agent, she'd earned a reputation as a loner with a violent streak when handling suspects. One of the youngest agents to be admitted to the agency in decades and an ace in both marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat, Natsuki earned a fair amount of resentment among some of her collogues. Her cold attitude forced others to give her a wide berth.

But, some people had apparently missed the memo that she wasn't to be disturbed. From the beginning, Tokiha Mai and Minagi Mikoto had seemed immune to her attitude and reputation. Mai had constantly chatted and joked with her, even when she didn't respond. Even after she'd flattened the redhead when she'd tried to drag her on a double blind date, Mai'd returned to her office the next day with a wrist brace and a cup of coffee. After she'd been unable to save a civilian on one of her assignments, they'd both been right next to her in the bar while she'd tried to drown herself in alcohol. Not saying a word, they'd sat with her all night.

Since then, she'd been comfortable talking with them, though at times they gave her headaches. Once the other agents saw her with them, they'd relaxed a bit more as well and began to accept her. Little did Natsuki know that after that, she'd begun to open up to them too. She still preferred to be alone most of the time, but now, it could occasionally go the other way as well.

Okay, maybe things were different now.

Taking her arm away from her face, Natsuki stared at the ceiling. It wasn't something she though about often- how she'd come to be and how she'd gotten to where she was now. Grunting, she pushed herself up from the chair she looked at the clock, fifteen minutes till the meet, just enough time to grab a chocolate bar and re-energize. As she was about to leave, a short tap on the door paused her. Before she could even answer, the door opened and a young woman walked in.

Natsuki restrained a loud sigh. It was definitely not her day.

"Good morning, Kuga-san, you're looking well." Tomoe Marguerite smiled.

"Yeah. You too. Something I can help you with?" Natsuki strained to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Tomoe Marguerite was a Pratt. Unlike Sugiura's amazing information gathering techniques, where one could never know where she'd gotten the information, Marguerite was constantly in everyone's face and business. What's more, she wasn't the least bit discreet with her information and had a jealous streak a mile wide. Despite being several years Natsuki's elder, she'd entered the agency only a few months before Natsuki had and had immediately taken the younger woman to be her rival. Personally, Natsuki had decided that the woman hated her because she didn't have a messed up haircut.

Pushing her wire-rim glasses up on the bridge of her nose, Tomoe shuffled through the top file on Natsuki's desk before it was grabbed roughly away. Looking up she smiled a little too sweetly, immediately causing Natsuki to think of a rat.

"My, my, there's no need to be rude. I just thought I'd say 'hello'."

"Uh-huh… Would you mind?" Natsuki gestured for Tomoe to move when teal-haired woman sat on the corner of her desk blocking the exit. "I've got to go."

She still had fifteen minutes but Marguerite didn't know that.

"Oh?" Another annoying smile. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Yeah." Natsuki bit off a retort. "That's just about the only I'd have to ask you to move isn't it?"

Tomoe arched an eyebrow trying to look nonchalant—she failed.

"Something to do with your visit to the chief's office this morning?"

"No. I gotta pee. Are you going to let me?"

"Sure," Tomoe frowned as she stood. "Wouldn't want you to have an accident."

"You're too kind." She'd had enough, and her retort dripped with sarcasm.

With a huff, Natsuki backed the woman out of the door and locked it with some satisfaction. Turning in the direction of the conference room, Natsuki paused after a few steps. The creepy bitch of a woman was following her.

"Um… so… I'm going this way. Were you planning on watching me take a piss?" Natsuki said a bit louder then necessary, drawing a few eyes.

"Freak…" Tomoe muttered before she turned and hurried to her desk.

Grinning, Natsuki licked her finger and tallied the air. Now sure that the woman wouldn't dare follow her, she headed to the room. She was early, but they could damn well deal with it.

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**A/N**- Nyahahahaha. Sorry, guys, another setup chapter. If this one didn't meet my minimum word requirement there probably would have been more… alas… Next chapter we get to the meat of the matter, aight?

You know the drill- reviews, flames or whatever. If not, thanks for reading.


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